Staring At the Sun
by A-Quaint-Facade
Summary: I can’t speak, I can hardly even move. The only thing I can manage is a half twitch, pseudoshrug and I wonder why I am always speechless around a man who wears his underwear on the outside.


**Disclaimer: **Superman's not mine, though I wish he was.

**Notes: **This might have been done already, if it has, then I haven't read it and this work is purely my own. It's unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own as well. It's based off of one of my favorite scenes in Superman Returns. I know some things aren't consistent with the actual movies-chalk it up to artistic license.

**Summary: **I can't speak, I can hardly even move. The only thing I can manage is a half twitch, pseudo-shrug and I wonder why I am always speechless around a man who wears his underwear on the outside.

**Staring At the Sun**

There have been many situations in my lifetime when I felt like I was going to die. There have been situations where I knew that death was a certainty. The first time I was sure was when I fell out of a helicopter. All at once, I could see the helicopter drifting away and the ground rising. It was quick and fast and at the same time, spinning in slow motion. And right as my life was flashing before my eyes, I was saved. Saved by an otherworldly superhero in tights who wore underwear incorrectly.

When I was younger, love was not an obvious commodity in my house. The General, perhaps too hardened by war, did not show affection, towards his wife or his two children. My mom tried her best with two children but it was too hard for her: the constant upheavals that served as reminders that this was not a normal household. It eventually took its toll on her and one day she was gone, never to be seen again. The General took it hard, but he didn't show it as much as me or Lucy. We wept until he told us that emotion would get us nowhere in life. I'm telling you this now because I've never actually been in love. I scorned it, true love doesn't exist and if it does, then it's felonious. That was until I was saved in more ways then one.

Maybe that's a little cheesy, maybe it's even predictable, but it's true. Too career-minded, I did not see that my life was going in circles-like a gerbil on a wheel, chasing every rung of possibility and realizing that there's nowhere to go. Does the gerbil willingly get off the wheel? Only when it's tired, and believe you me, I was exhausted.

So along came this superhero in tights, immediately dubbed Superman. He swept me-and the world-off of my feet and before I knew it, I had fallen head over heels in love. Yep, it was _extremely _cheesy. But I, more than anything, just wanted love and stability and safety in my life. Two out of three wasn't so bad; you couldn't exactly have stability when Superman was needed around the entire world.

I had myself duped. It was so easy to believe that I could be happy, really, truly, _ecstatically _happy. But Murphy's Law has a way of kicking you in the butt, when you least expect it. One day, Superman was just gone, practically disappearing in a cheap, hazy cloud of smoke and glitter. No explanation, no warning, no goodbye.

Had I really meant so little to him that he left without even saying goodbye? It was almost too painful for me to bear. I was addicted to love now and I couldn't get my high. I drowned my sorrows in a long, scathing report entitled "Why the World Doesn't Need Superman" and won a Pulitzer for it. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. _

**Superman**

I'm Lois Lane; I recovered from that like I always do. Maybe not wholly myself and maybe a little more wary than before, but I did. Perry introduced me to his nephew, Richard, and he provided what Superman could not: stability. He was my safety net and I was in love with him, or so I fooled myself into thinking.

And eventually, it became enough-I was satisfied. Satisfied with my career and my personal life, both of which included Richard. And I was absolutely in love with my son, Jason, who was my pride and joy, my star for when the nights were too dark and Richard wasn't enough. Jason was the reason I agreed to Richard's marriage proposal. But here we are, still engaged, even though it's been five years. I haven't been able to take the plunge just yet. I will, just give it some more time.

**Superman**

That's the problem though, thinking like that. "Give it more time." You always think there's more time. There _has_ to be more time than this. But there isn't and when the time's up, what do you do?

**Superman**

This is one of those situations. One of those predicaments where I'm sure I'm going to die. I was being punished for being a procrastinator, if for no other reason. Punished for thinking there was more time when there wasn't and I didn't get married and oh dear sweet Jesus, did I tell Jason I loved him this morning? I can't even remember this morning.

As the aircraft starts rocketing, I'm trying my hardest to recall what happened this morning but I can't and that's worse than the knowledge that my life is about to end. I'm flying through the air and I suppose this is punishment for my stupidity, for not remaining in my seat even though I helped that other woman get into a chair. There's no time to panic and I'm trying to get grounded, to sit, because maybe-just _maybe_-there's a chance that we'll all survive this. How? I don't know. There's something about having a child that changes your outlook on life. I was pessimistic before and I still am-on the outside.

I wonder if, in your almost death throes, you start to have hallucinations. Because here I am, about to die, and I swear I just saw Superman fly by. Maybe it's just my imagination. Maybe it was a fast moving bird. Maybe it was one of those helium balloons that fly up when a little child accidentally lets one go and then disappears into nowhere.

Finally, I manage to get into a seat but it doesn't help much. The plane is still spinning, swirling, teetering on the brink of life and death. Bags overhead keep falling and I briefly wonder why there are bags on this plane when it was supposed to be a 'press conference'.

The plane is going into a nosedive _(I guess it teetered to death's side) _and really, it's amazing that I can even tell my back from my front when it felt like I had been tossed into a blender to make one of those macrobiotic shakes for Jason. I would try praying, but I think it's past that point. Now I am in need of a miracle, only those are hard to come by these days.

And then, as if some higher being heard me, the plane stops and it's upright again. The silence in the air is almost deafening. The silence was almost like its own entity. No one was screaming. No one was crying. No one was even thanking God or Allah or Buddha or some other higher being.

Silence like this stretches on for hours, when really it's closer to four seconds. The hatch is open-excuse me, I mean ripped off and in steps the last person I thought I'd see, though I should have seen it coming. He was always there to save the day. _Always there to save me_. And even though I'm engaged, practically married, I can't help but think that whatever he's done these past five years has been very good to him.

"Is everyone alright?" He asks. How do you answer a question like that? Well, I guess you don't, if my colleagues' lack of response is anything to go by. I'm staring at him, and I swear, honest-to-goodness, that he's staring back. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm trying to stand up. It's hard though, my legs are weak and my knees wobbly and for a split second I remember that this happened when…this happened back then.

"Are you okay?" He says to me. I can't speak. I can hardly even move. The only thing I can manage is a half twitch, pseudo shrug and I wonder why I'm always speechless around a man who wears his underwear on the outside. No I'm not okay. Again, what type of question is this? You've been gone for five years without so much as a goodbye, even though you said loved me. Some people turn around to look at me, and if I could remember any shred of common sense, I would have blushed. Luckily, common sense flew out the window when I was rocketing around the cabin. Luckily in the sense that I'm the company of a bunch of reporters and now they won't be able to say too many scandalous things about my reaction in tomorrow's newspaper.

"Well, I hope this experience hasn't put any of you off flying. Statistically speaking, it's still the safest way to travel." _Statistically speaking, I have every right to slap you across the face,_ but then I remember that you probably wouldn't even feel it. And yes, I realized that that doesn't even make sense, I'm just being a little snarky right now. If I had looked down at this point, I would have noticed that my hand was gripping the back of the seat so tightly; my knuckles were a deadly shade of white.

And just like that, Superman turns and leaves and when you get down to it, reporters are reporters. There will be time for personal reflection later, right now; they had to get the scoop. People start to yell for him and still I can't manage a "Come back here, you pigheaded superhero."

I follow him out, but I don't know what I'm going to say. What would he say? Why am I even contemplating this? He's waiting at the opening and I'm almost there, I'm just about to reach out and tell him that he can't do this to me again. I feel like I'm staring at the sun. Breathtakingly beautiful, immensely dangerous and powerful and strong, and painfully, heartbreakingly out of my reach. It hurts to stare at him; he's so bright that he's glowing. And just like the sun, he belongs to everyone, not just me. And yes, I know that he doesn't 'belong' to any of us in the sense that he's a piece of property. I'm going to tell him this and I'm going to tell him that he can't leave again, or if he does, then he should just stay away because I don't need saving anymore.

Right as I arrive at the opening, he flies off-leaving me behind and I break again and now I know that he really should just stay away. As I watch him fly into the sky, towards the sun, I remember that I'm married, or supposed to be married _(Really, at this point, it's just logistics)_, and I have a child with my fiancé and this will all turn into one big mess.

And then as I start to faint, the world blissfully turns black until there's no more sun and no more Superman.


End file.
